


Prompt #2

by Sijglind



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex in a Car, Top!Sam, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sijglind/pseuds/Sijglind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://anavilante.tumblr.com/">anavilante</a>: "Jealous bottom!Dean wants to show Sam that he's better than any girl."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prompt #2

**Author's Note:**

> [Give me a prompt](http://incestuousfricklefrackle.tumblr.com/ask/) on my [tumblr](http://incestuousfricklefrackle.tumblr.com/).

Dean had planned to take them back to the motel but they barely make it out onto the parking lot and to his baby before he has his hands down his brother’s pants and his cock in a tight grip.

“Dean, what—” Sam manages to say before he trails off into a groan, already half-hard cock getting even harder under Dean’s ministrations.

“Shut up,” Dean growls and underlines his point by biting Sam’s bottom lip, drawing a startled grunt from his brother and a twitch of interest from his cock. With his free hand, Dean gropes for the Impala’s door handle next to Sam’s hip, opening the door to the backseat while he keeps Sam occupied by stroking a thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the slickness of pre-come around.

“What are you—”

“I said shut up, Sam.” The door comes open with a creak and Dean doesn’t hesitate to push Sam down and inside, making him sprawl over the leather bench, all slack, long limbs and blissful, glassy eyes as he looks back at Dean, watches him crawl inside as well and close the car door behind him. It’s a bit awkward, because they’re both tall, and even though Dean’s had sex in the backseat plenty of times, it’s never been with a Sasquatch and there’s a lot of shifting, cursing and banging around before Dean finally kneels between Sam’s pant-less legs. Bit of a mood killer, that—both of Dean’s elbows are protesting ‘cause he banged them against what felt like every hard surface the car has to offer—but Dean’s a man on a mission, has to prove a point here, and they stopped the god-damn Apocalypse, so he won’t fail when it comes to car sex with his gigantuan brother.

“Saw you flirting with that chick, Sammy,” Dean says and deliberately changes his voice to a lower pitch because he knows what that does to Sam. One hand stroking idly up and down Sam’s cock, Dean goes on, “can’t say she wasn’t pretty. Blond, big eyes, nice rack—” he squeezes the shaft a bit, thumbing the slit, and is rewarded with a bead of pre-come and a strangled groan “—good ass. Bet she’s crying in there right now because she didn’t get to see your big cock.”

His grin is feral as he leans down to lick a stripe from the base to the head of Sam’s dick, swirling his tongue and tasting the salty slickness, opening his mouth to suck slightly before letting go again, all the while listening to Sam panting and feeling him writhing.

“But y’know, Sammy, you really shouldn’t’ve gotten her hopes up like that.” Open-mouthed kisses along the shaft, feels the pulse in the vein on the underside against his lips, gives Sammy a hint of teeth grazing sensitive skin, gets a hitch in his brother’s breath as answer. “After all, we know that you enjoy fucking your own brother far too much to look for something else.”

Sam’s hips twitch and he throws his head back against the car door on the passenger side, groaning loud and needy.

“Dean, please,” he begs and pushes his hips up, looking for friction, for Dean’s mouth, _anything_ , but Dean isn’t done yet. He has a lesson to teach.

“Nuh uh, Sammy. You’ve been bad, and bad boys need to be punished, don’t you agree?” well, now he’s putting it on thick with the porn dialogue but Sam doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he makes another greedy sound in the back of his throat that sounds suspiciously like a whine, and Dean gives in a bit, wraps one hand around Sam’s cock and pulls a few times, fast and rough as Sammy likes it best.

Sam’s panting, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, glinting in the pink and blue light of the bar’s neon lights pouring in through the window. Dean fumbles in the pocket of his jacket for lube and condoms, leans in and closes his lips around Sam’s cock again, swallows him down quickly until he can feel the head at the back of his throat. Sam gives a surprised shout and bucks up from the seat to get deeper but Dean presses him down with an arm thrown over Sam’s hips. He’s calling the shots tonight.

Dean bobs his head up and down, his tongue dragging along the underside of Sam’s dick on the way up, swirling around the crown of his cock before he pushes back down, sucking, one hand holding Sam in place, the other reaching out to slip beneath the plaid shirt to pinch a nipple.

“Fuck,” Sam curses when Dean deep-throats him, swallows, throat working around him. “ _Fuck_ _, Dean_!”

Sam’s cock slips from Dean’s mouth with an obscene pop and then he sits back on his haunches, looks down at his brother, his flushed face, glassy, heavy-lidded eyes, parted mouth slick and red from biting it to keep the noises in, floppy hair disheveled, and he looks so _damn fuckable_ that Dean has to press his fingers around the base of his cock to hold back.

“That’s the plan,” he says instead with a predatory grin and pulls Sam up, shifts them around until Sam’s sitting upright against the back of the bench, Dean straddling his lap, their cocks pressed against each other between their stomachs. There’s a glint in Sam’s eyes as he rolls his hips forwards, dragging his cock along Dean’s and they groan.

“Dammit, keep still,” Dean says through his teeth and fists a hand into Sam’s hair, drags his head back and bares his brother’s throat, bites into it none too gently before sucking a bruise there and Sam hisses but heeds the warning, long fingers tightening where they hold onto Dean’s hips.

“Good boy.” Dean grins and brings their mouths together, licks and sucks at Sam’s bottom lip before fucking his tongue into his mouth, a promise of what’s to come.

He tears the foil package with lube open with his teeth and coats two of his fingers, reaches around himself as Sam watches, pupils blown, eyes hungry, large hands coming around to cup Dean’s ass cheeks, spreading them open while Dean circles his hole with one slick finger before pushing in the first digit. They both moan, and Sam surges forward to capture Dean’s lips in a kiss, sloppy and wet and hungry, with teeth and tongues and too much spit, but who the fuck cares because Dean is rocking back and then forwards again, grinding their dicks together while he fucks himself on his own two fingers, Sam’s fingertips digging hard into his cheeks.

Dean scissors himself open while Sam licks into his mouth and nips at his lips, his jawline, neck, collarbone, everything in reach, and he wants to grind up so badly, rub their dicks together until they both come, but Dean says, “condom,” and Sam tears the package open with shaking fingers, reaches between them to roll the condom on, Dean’s dick dragging heavy and slick over the back of his hand because he’s still fingering himself and rolling his hips.

Sam empties the rest of the lube package over his own dick, coats it carefully because even that is nearly too much but he doesn’t want to come yet, needs to be inside Dean.

“’Kay,” he says, breathless and husky, fingers pressing down hard on the base of his cock. “Ready.”

Dean sits up on his knees and Sam shifts forward, lines his dick up with Dean’s hole and then Dean’s sinking down on his dick, hot and tight and slick and Sam nearly shouts because it feels so fucking good. They kiss when Dean’s seated completely, giving him time to adjust.

Then, Dean starts moving, bobs up and down fast on Sam’s cock, the Impala moving around them and squeaking beneath their weight, and fuck, everybody who comes out of the bar will know what they’re doing, but fuck, this is far too good. Sam’s hands are holding on tight to Dean’s hips, his grip nearly bruising as he lifts his brother and pushes him back down, his own hips rolling up to meet him halfway.

Around them, the windows are fogging up. Dean is riding Sam hard and fast, grinding down on him while Sam fists Dean’s cock with his slick hand, imitating the rhythm of their thrusts. Their lips are crushed together, but they aren’t kissing, more groaning into each other’s open mouths while they climb higher and higher towards climax with each thrust, and Dean’s holding on to Sam, one hand twisting the long strands of hair, the other clutching one plaid-covered shoulder so hard it’s going to bruise.

Stars in Dean’s vision when Sam angles his hips _just so_ and hits Dean’s prostrate and Dean groans, says, “there, like that,” and Sam does it again, and again, until their rhythm becomes even faster but more sloppy, staggering slightly, yet neither of them cares because they’re far too close, and then Dean’s coming with a strangled shout and Sam follows him after a few thrusts, both riding their orgasms out with half-hearted thrusts and rolls of their hips.

Dean collapses on top of Sam, sweat-sticky forehead against the crook of Sam’s neck as he mumbles, “you’re gonna clean the car tomorrow.”

Sam wants to protest but all he does is chuckle in surprise.

“Totally worth it.”


End file.
